


Cookies and Papercuts

by yerawizardlani



Series: Holiday Series [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Cookies, F/M, Holidays, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yerawizardlani/pseuds/yerawizardlani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of the prompt from tumblr: Who wraps presents horribly and has to get help from the other? Bellamy comes over to help Clarke wrap presents and gets cookies in return. Lots of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookies and Papercuts

**Author's Note:**

> Hi you guys! So I got such a great response from the last two one-shots that I decided to write another one. Enjoy!

Clarke huffed in defeat, glaring balefully at the pile of wrapping paper and ribbon before her. She'd been trying for the past hour to finish wrapping all of her Christmas presents, but all she had to show for it were a half a dozen papercuts and a building tension headache.

Clarke crumpled up the piece of wrapping paper in her hands and clambered to her feet. She would probably regret this, but it was time to call in reinforcements. She grabbed her phone off of the kitchen counter and dialed the familiar number. She listened to the ringtone, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Hello?" Clarke fought back the tiny smile that appeared at his voice.

"I need your help," she admitted. She could practically hear his smirk from the other line.

"Really, Princess?" he teased, "And how can I be of assistance today?" he asked. Clarke closed her eyes. Yep. Definitely going to regret this.

"Remember that winter you spent wrapping presents at the department store?" she asked.

"Vividly." Clarke grinned at Bellamy's sour tone. He'd spent an entire winter season griping about that particular job to anyone who would listen.

"Do you think you still have some of those famous wrapping skills you're always bragging about?" She closed her eyes at the note of desperation in her voice. This was getting dangerously close to begging, and Clarke Griffin never begged.

"You know it, Princess," he assured her, understanding the question without needing to be asked. "I'll be over in about an hour." Clarke breathed out in relief.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"Yeah, yeah," he laughed, "Just promise me hot chocolate and some of your famous ginger snaps and we'll call it even." Clarke laughed.

"Deal," she agreed. The phone clicked dead and Clarke shook her head. She needed to start on a fresh batch of cookies.

Clarke was placing the final cookie pan in the oven when her buzzer sounded, alerting her to someone at the door. Clarke quickly swiped her hair out of her face and hurried to answer it. She opened the door wide and grinned at Bellamy, who was busy brushing snowflakes out of his hair. He took one look at her and burst out laughing. Clarke frowned.

"What's so funny?" she demanded. Bellamy grinned down at her and raised one hand to swipe his thumb across her cheek. Clarke's breathing stuttered at the contact. Bellamy held out his thumb for her to see. It was covered in flour. Clarke blushed.

"Don't you think the flour should actually make it in the cookies?" he teased. Clarke narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Shut up and get in here," she ordered, leaving the door open for him as she went back to baking. She set the timer on the oven and then started cleaning up, putting away all of her ingredients. Bellamy followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and grabbing at the bowl of cookie dough. Clarke watched as he swiped his finger along the bottom of the bowl and plopped the wad of dough in his mouth, humming with satisfaction. His eyes issued a playful challenge. Clarke raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to eat from the bowl?" she asked, hands on her hips. Bellamy waggled his eyebrows, smirking.

"What's the mater, Princess?" he teased, "My manners not up to code for you?" Clarke rolled her eyes.

"Pig," she threw at him, turning back to the mess. Bellamy took another swipe of the cookie dough and then set the bowl aside.

"Let me help," he offered, gathering up some of the dirty dishes and piling them in the sink. He grabbed a spatula from her hand and turned the water on. Clarke smiled.

"You don't have to," she told him, watching as he scrubbed dutifully at the dishes, splashing soapy water on the counter as he worked. "You're already doing me a favor." Bellamy shook his head.

"It's really not a problem," he assured her, "I'm pretty sure cookies and hot chocolate mean that I got the better end of the deal anyway." Clarke shook her head, smiling, but said no more. If Bellamy wanted to help, well, she wasn't about to stop him.

They worked in companionable silence for a while. Bellamy washed, and Clarke dried. When she had placed the last dish back in its place, Bellamy turned to her, a wide grin on his face.

"We make a pretty good team, Princess," he said. Clarke couldn't stop the smile on her face from spreading wider.

"We do," she agreed. The moment stretched longer as they stood staring at each other in her kitchen, grinning like fools. Finally, Clarke shook her head slightly and motioned toward the living room where she had left her pile of gifts and wrapping paper.

"Shall we get started?" she asked. Bellamy's forehead creased before he remembered why he had been invited over. He swallowed.

"Yeah. Let's do that." Clarke led him into the living room, and fidgeted as he surveyed the damage. Bellamy shook his head.

"Aren't you supposed to be good at this shit?" he demanded, giving her his best befuddled stare. "I mean, artsy stuff is your thing, and this is kind of artsy." Clarke shrugged.

"I can never get the folds right," she mumbled, "It's the same thing with origami." Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

"So you're bad at paperfolding in general then?" he teased. "Good to know." Clarke huffed.

"Shut up and get to wrapping," she ordered, going over to her iPad to put on some music. She clicked on her Pandora Christmas station and the crooning voice of Perry Como sounded through the speakers. Bellamy shrugged, shaking his head as he sat down, grabbing a badly wrapped gift and examining it critically.

"You really are awful at this," he observed, "Why didn't you just take it to a professional?" Clarke took her seat beside him on the floor.

"It's the principal of the thing," she explained. He shot her a questioning look. She sighed. "Presents are supposed to be hand-wrapped," she told him, "to show you care." Bellamy snorted.

"Princess, no one cares who wrapped the presents," he told her, "Mom used to have me wrap all of O's Christmas gifts growing up. Stick to your strengths." He tore the wrapping off of the gift in his hand, revealing a wooden box. He shook it curiously.

"What's in it?" he asked.

"It's a bracelet," Clarke explained, "For O." Bellamy smiled and reached for the roll of wrapping paper. For the first time he seemed to register what he was looking at.

"Really Clarke?" he laughed, "Frozen wrapping paper? Really?" Clarke grabbed the role and held it to his face.

"Look at the Olafs, Bellamy," she ordered him, "And tell me they're not adorable. Go on, I dare you." Bellamy broke down laughing, pushing the role away as he clutched his stomach with his other hand. Clarke couldn't help her wide smile as she watched him wipe tears from the corner of his eye.

"You're too cute for your own good," Bellamy wheezed. Clarke shoved his shoulder.

"Don't call me cute," she pouted. Bellamy just grinned at her. Finally he grabbed the wrapping paper from her and starting measuring it out.

"Go make us some hot chocolate or something," he waved her off, focusing in on his task. Clarke rolled her eyes, but obliged. The cookies should be almost done by now anyway.

She walked into the kitchen just as the timer for the oven went off. Grabbing her oven mitts, she slid them on, carefully removed the pans, and set them on the counter to cool. Then she reached for a couple of mugs and started in on the cocoa.

Clarke knew that Bellamy would have settled for Swiss Miss cocoa, but she also knew that he had a weakness for homemade peppermint hot chocolate, and she happened to have the ingredients on hand. Quickly she set out a saucepan and filled it with milk. She turned the stove on and set the heat on medium. Then she started rummaging through her cupboards for the cocoa powder.

Clarke came out of the kitchen fifteen minutes later carrying two mugs of hot chocolate piled with whipped cream and each carrying a single peppermint stick. She set one mug on the floor beside Bellamy, who now had a semi-large pile of beautifully wrapped presents in front of him, and placed the second mug on the coffee table.

"I'll be right back," she promised, "I'm going to go bring out a plate of cookies." Bellamy grunted his reply, concentrating intently on the folds for the present in his hands. Clarke took a moment to appreciate the scrunched up look on his face. His bottom lip stuck out in a little pout and his dark brown eyes were completely focused on the task at hand. Clarke left to grab the cookies and returned to find Bellamy reaching for the last badly-wrapped present. It was then that she realized.

"No!" she cried, lunging forward to snatch the present away from him, "You can't touch that one!" Bellamy shot her a weird look.

"Why not?" he asked. Clarke placed the present carefully on the couch.

"It's yours," she told him. Bellamy's lips shot into a wolfish grin.

"Really?" he asked, sounding like the five year-old Clarke secretly thought he might still be. "What'd you get me?" Clarke rolled her eyes.

"It's a surprise, stupid," she said. Bellamy pouted. Clarke shoved the cookies at him, hoping to distract him from the thought of his present. It worked. Bellamy took one look at the plate of cookies and immediately started shoveling them in his mouth, not even bothering to act like a person as he chewed. He closed his eyes and moaned, and the sound did strange things to Clarke's body. Her stomach clenched and she quickly reached for her cup of cocoa to hide her blush.

"Clarke, I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again: these cookies are fucking fantastic." Clarke smiled, pleased with the praise.

"I try," she joked. Bellamy met her eyes and winked. He grabbed another cookie and took a sip of his cocoa.

"So, anymore gifts for me to wrap?" he asked through a mouthful of ginger snap. Clarke looked at the pile of presents in front of him. They looked much better than her attempts. She glanced at the sad lump of paper that held Bellamy's present and silently promised that she would rewrap his gift even if it took her all night to get it perfect.

"I think you've fulfilled your end of the bargain," she told him. "Thanks for that, by the way." Bellamy shrugged, taking another sip of his cocoa and leaning against the couch.

"Anytime," he promised her, "I like having the excuse to eat your cookies and hang out." Clarke grinned.

"That's good to know," she replied. They sat munching on cookies and drinking hot chocolate as the Christmas station played on. Clarke closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch. Her tension headache from before was starting to build, and Clarke worried it might turn into a migraine if she didn't take care of it now. She set her mug aside and stood to grab some painkillers. Bellamy started at her sudden movement.

"Where are you going?" he asked. Clarke motioned toward her bathroom and the medicine cabinet holding all of her painkillers.

"I need to grab something for a headache," she explained. Bellamy frowned.

"Is it a migraine?" he asked, concerned. Clarke had chronic migraines, and Bellamy had seen some of her worst. Clarke shook her head.

"I think it's just a tension headache," she assured him, "But I want to nip it in the bud before it gets worse, just in case." Bellamy nodded his understanding. Clarke turned and walked down the hall toward her bathroom.

The painkillers were on the first shelf of her medicine cabinet, and Clarke reached for them without a thought. She didn't notice how light the bottle felt until she popped open the lid and attempted to shake two pills into her palm. Nothing. Clarke frowned.

"That can't be right," she murmured to herself, shaking the bottle once more. Still nothing. She peered inside the bottle to find it empty.

"Fuck!" she swore. Why hadn't she realized that the bottle was empty? She always made sure she had painkillers in the house!

"Everything okay?" Bellamy called from the living room. He must've heard her expletive. It wasn't like Clarke to curse.

"Fine," she called out to him, "I just realized I'm out of pain meds." She tossed the bottle into the trash and returned to the living room where Bellamy had his concerned face on.

"Do you need me to go get you some more?" he offered, "There's a Duane Reade's a couple blocks down. It'll take me fifteen minutes." Clarke smiled and shook her head.

"That's sweet," she told him, "But it's fine. I grab some on my way into work tomorrow. It's not urgent." Bellamy opened his mouth, probably to argue with her, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he patted the ground in front of him.

"Sit here," he ordered. Clarke studied him warily, unsure of his goal, but eventually she decided that she trusted him. She lowered herself onto the ground in front of him.

He gently swiped her braid away from her neck and Clarke tensed.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked, suddenly nervous.

"I'm told that a massage sometimes helps with headaches," he admitted, "is that okay?" Clarke thought about this for a moment. She and Bellamy had been friends for years, practically her entire life, and she'd never had an issue with physical contact between the two of them, but lately things between them had started to shift. Was this really a line she wanted to cross with him? Bellamy waited patiently, keeping his hands to himself as she thought about it. If this were Finn, she would be fighting to keep his hands away from her. That thought decided it. Bellamy wasn't Finn, and she trusted him completely. He'd never push her into something she didn't want.

"Yeah," she answered finally, her voice soft, "Go ahead." She felt his warm hands land on her bare neck and she had to bite back a small moan as his thumbs began to dig into her muscles, releasing knots of tension that had been building up for awhile. She leaned further into his hands, giving him silent encouragement. Her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers worked her over. She'd heard his past girlfriends talking about his massages, but she'd never really paid much attention. Now she knew that they hadn't been exaggerating his skill. Bellamy really did know what he was doing here. A soft hum escaped her lips as she slowly began to relax. She could get used to this.

The sound of Bellamy's alarm going off knocked her out of her massage-induced haze. Bellamy pulled away from her to check his phone and switch off the noise. She glanced back at him to see his frown. He looked up at her; his eyes held an apology.

"I have to head in to work soon," he admitted, "Will you be okay here?" Clarke nodded. The headache had all but disappeared under his attentions.

"I'll be fine," she assured him, "Your massage helped a lot. I think I'll just turn in a little early tonight and sleep the rest of it off." Bellamy nodded.

"I'll drop by later tonight with some pain meds for you, just in case," he promised, "I know where you keep your spare key. I'll let myself in so you don't have to stay up." Clarke shook her head.

"You don't have to do that, Bell," she told him. Bellamy smiled as he stood, offering his hand to help her up. She accepted the offer, heaving herself up with a sigh. She'd been so comfortable in their previous position.

"I know," Bellamy said, "I want to. I don't want you to be without pain meds in case you need them." Clarke smiled, knowing there was no talking him out of it. Caretaker was in Bellamy's nature.

"Fine," she agreed, "I'll leave you out a plate of cookies for later, and you can help yourself to the milk in the fridge." Bellamy's grin spread across his entire face. His freckles made him look like a little boy. Clarke leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Bell," she whispered before stepping back. The grin just grew wider. A spark of mischief in his eyes was the only warning Clarke received before he leaned in for a kiss of his own, his lips lingering on her cheek longer than was strictly necessary.

"Sweet dreams, Princess," he murmured, his breath hot on her ear. Then he leaned back once more, and with a wink he turned to let himself out, leaving Clarke to stand dumbstruck where he left her. Her cheek tingled from the feel of his lips and she tried very hard not to think about what it would've been like if he'd kissed her on the lips. Her friendship with Bellamy was too important to mess with, and she wasn't sure she was ready for a relationship so soon after Finn.

Clarke placed all of the gifts in her closet and quickly got ready for bed. She set out the promised plate of cookies for Bellamy, leaving a small thank you note with them. She crawled into bed, unsure that she would even be able to sleep with the feel of his lips still burning on her cheek, but to her surprise, she fell quickly into a dreamless sleep. When she awoke, a bottle of painkillers lay on her bedside table and the cookies had disappeared, leaving behind only crumbs.


End file.
